


Take My Hand

by JweJang



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JweJang/pseuds/JweJang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a kinkmeme prompt: </p><p>  <i>"Femshep/Saren: Don't care about the hows or whys, just something fluffy and sweet, please!</i></p><p>  <i>An additional sexy would be fine too."</i></p><p>This takes place right after ME3 in an AU where Saren survived ME1, worked with Shepard and entered a relationship with her sometime during the events of ME2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awake

Shepard woke in a hazy softness. She had trouble focusing her eyes, seeing only vague grey shapes, and felt oddly unperturbed by this. 

Fine. Probably sedated. Probably in a hospital. That made sense, considering the last thing she remembered was the Crucible exploding around her. Fire. Falling, and searing pain along her side that brought blackness with it.

She concentrated on what her fingers could tell her instead. They felt oddly numb, but she was definitely laying on a mattress. She could hear the rustle of the sheets, but only dimly, as if they were much further away than her fingertips.

"Shepard?"

"I'm... in a bed." she said, helpfully. 

She felt the snort of muffled laughter along her cheek more than she heard it. "So. The savior of the galaxy's first words upon regaining consciousness. Truly inspiring."

She frowned and opened her eyes again, squinting. That blob beside her had a turian silhouette, and she only knew of one with two long spines extending from his face. She reached out her hand towards him and felt him catch it in his own.

"Saren? What happened...?"

His mandibles twitched in something like a smile. "The war is over, Shepard. The Reapers are gone, and since I know you're going to ask, your crew is fine. The Normandy is fine, your Admiral Hackett is fine. You, on the other hand, just barely made it. How do you feel?" 

She settled against her pillows and didn't answer him for awhile, digesting this information.

Over. It was done. They had actually won. She hadn't been sure at all that her decisions in the end had had any effect on the battle raging below in London, but evidently, they had.

She expected to feel relieved, or at the very least, happy. Instead she only felt a sort of numbness, and a sudden desire to take a very long walk outside, on her own.

Saren's hand twitched on hers impatiently, and she looked over at him. "Can't see very well. Feel sort of floaty. Hands feel funny."

"They're wrapped, you ridiculous creature. Much of you is, in fact." She saw his omni-tool light up, and tried to bring it into focus. "Doctor, she's awake. She seems alert enough, though she says she feels 'sort of floaty' and cannot see well." He paused, and she could hear Chakwas's voice come through.

"Thank you, Mr. Arterius. Please make sure she remains in bed, and I will be there shortly." said the doctor. 

Shepard blinked. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't think."

"You are correct. You're not, not in your condition." He rose from his chair and paused when he felt her hand close around his wrist.

"Saren. Are you... with the Reapers gone, are you okay?" she asked, insistently tugging him closer.

He turned his hand in her grip so that he could grasp her wrist in return. "I am better than I've been for a very long time. Don't worry. Focus on your own recovery. We will talk more later."

"Yeah, but-" Shepard began, only to be interrupted when Chakwas arrived, pushing a cart of medical supplies in front of her. She nodded briskly at Saren, who slipped his hand from Shepard's and nodded in return.

"I trust you're holding up well, Mr. Arterius?" the doctor asked, checking over Shepard's readouts. "I gave you permission to sit up with the Commander, but you remember it was on the condition that you would go back to your room if your injuries were bothering you."

Saren huffed. "I am fine. You should be more concerned with her."

"I am plenty concerned, my dear turian." Saren _huffed_. "However, you are my patient as well, and it would be remiss of me to not ask about your well being."

"I'm _fine_.- Let me know if I am needed." Both women watched with amusement as he huffed right out the door.

"What's gotten up his ass?" Shepard asked, watching the doctor check the adhesive on a couple of electrodes.

"Oh, he just hates to be fussed over, Commander. Your vision, by the way, will clear up on its own. We had to replace some of your cybernetics, and the delayed calibration is simply due to the extent of your injuries. They were quite impressive, by the way." Chakwas fixed the other woman with a glare. "Please do not ever do that again."

Shepard grinned sharply. "I'll try my best, but you know me. What about my hearing? You sound sort of like you're underwater."

"The same as your vision. Urdnot Wrex has composed a few odes to the scars you'll have. You won't have trouble hearing _those_ at any rate. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Okay, I guess. Kind of... numb, hearing that the war is over. Glad that it is, I just... wish I felt something more about it."

Chakwas smoothed the thin blanket covering her Commander. "Of course you are. This war defined your life for two years. When any great undertaking is finished, we feel a sort of emptiness where it once was. You are not a terrible person for not leaping from your bed with joy."

Shepard tried to let this sink in. "Did you feel it?"

"Not at first. Too much to do. As time passed... yes, I think I did, though tempered by the immediate relief of helping others recover. I do suggest you remain active and involved, by the way. It won't do you any good to simply lay here once I've cleared you to be up and about."

"When will that be?"

"Depends on how well you respond to a little physical therapy. Mr. Arterius has already asked, _demanded_ , to help you through it, by the way.

"For someone who doesn't like others fussing over him, he sure as hell can raise a stink, huh? Okay. I'll keep it in mind."

"Good. Now, do you think you could manage a little solid food?"

Shepard smiled.

For awhile, the days passed in a lazy doze for Shepard. Warm light came in through her window every sunrise (she'd asked Garrus to lighten the dimmed panes because she was so determined to see the sun after that hellish London night) and her friends and allies regularly came to see her in a steady stream. As Chakwas had said, listening to them talk was helping her spirit fill up again. There was rebuilding. Lines of communication were re-opening. Order was being restored. There was embarrassing talk of Shepard being made Admiral.

"I don't want it." she'd said. "That's not why I took this mission."

Hackett scratched briefly at the scar on his face. "Yeah. I figured you'd say that. This isn't about just a promotion, Shepard. You and your crew saved every spark of life in the galaxy, and they want to celebrate you. It's a key part of recovery, thanking the ones who helped us."

"You're telling me to swallow it so everyone else will feel better."

"That's a little unfair, Shepard. You did this for everyone else. This goes way beyond the call of duty, this is the making of a myth. Keeping you a commander would be ridiculous."

Shepard fiddled with the edge of her blanket. "I really just wanted to retire, sir."

Hackett nodded. "I expected that too. And you can, but after the ceremony."

She sighed, then looked back at him with a smirk, accented with a healing scab. "One more mission, is that it?"

"You could say that. Or to put it more bluntly, you're gonna take my thank you and like it."


	2. Walking

Shepard woke with a start as Saren poked her with a datapad. She swore at him and swung her pillow, which he caught with an unfortunate shredding noise and stared at her patiently through the snowy stuffing.

"You are better. Your reflexes have recovered, you can see well enough to focus on a target, and your energy levels allow you to see several visitors a day." he said, passing her the datapad with his right arm.

His left... wasn't there?

"What happened?!" Shepard yelled, grabbing at him.

"Calm yourself, Shepard. What do you think happened? When the Reapers were beaten, several of my cybernetics were... damaged as a result. You've only just noticed it was missing?"

"I couldn't see you clearly before. Come here, let me get a look."

Saren rolled his eyes. "For what? Do you happen to have a new prosthetic just laying about?" he said, but sat at her side readily enough. Shepard took hold of the edges of his cowl and turned him this way and that, taking stock of all the changes in him.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of blue lights. His eyes no longer glowed either, and upon a second look, she realized that they had actually been replaced entirely. 

The tubing that had once woven in and out of him was gone too, even the ones that had attached to the back of his skull. Everywhere that was missing a tube was covered with bandaging instead, most of it on his left side where his geth arm had once been.

There were new dark blue scars everywhere on him, everywhere the Reapers had once touched. Shepard gently stroked one that ran up the side of his neck.

"You must have been in pretty bad shape."

Saren watched her fingers intertwine with his and gave a soft rumble in his chest. "No one was more surprised to find that I had lived than I. I did not expect the doctor to be so determined to save me."

"Why?"

Saren's new eyes rose to meet hers. "I would not have done it. The resources, the time required... And then, considering my own history with the Reapers..."

Shepard pulled him close suddenly just then, shutting him up with a kiss. "Well. I'm glad she did."

His mandibles clicked with amusement. "Yes. I suppose I am as well."

"So what's going to happen with your arm? New prosthetic?"

"She has one on its way. In the meantime, we can focus on your physical therapy. My goal is to get you back to fighting shape," and here he paused to flick a mandible at her, "and perhaps better than before, if you think you can handle my training again."

She tapped her fist against his chin, smiling. "Last time ended with you and me, in my bed. How could we possibly top that?"

Saren gave her a patient look, then leaned in to rest his forehead on hers, his eyes closed. When he stayed there without saying anything more, she prodded him gently, wondering if he'd fallen asleep.

"It's nothing, Shepard. It..." He pulled back and pressed the side of his face to hers. "It was... very boring, watching you sleep."

She snorted. Ah, right. That was Sarenese for "I missed you very much, please never leave me again."

He stayed like that for bit longer, then stood up, pulling gently at her hand. "It's time you got back on your feet, Shepard. The doctor wishes to know if you're feeling strong enough to walk again."

"I guess there's one way to find out." 

Gingerly she swung her legs out and placed her feet on the floor. Saren hovered nearby with his hand slightly extended in case she needed him as she stood, and her legs almost immediately gave out. Saren caught her with his one arm and growled softly.

"You are not ready." he said. 

"The hell I'm not," she answered with sudden heat. "Help me or get out of my way, Arterius!"

Saren gave her a once over, considering those options. He knew very well that once Shepard's mind was fixed on something, she would pursue it. There was no point in trying to dissuade her. The best he could do would be to support her when she needed him, and he was sure she would.

He nodded, slowly. "Very well. I will come for you every other day, and you will rest in between. I will tolerate no arguments," he said as she opened her mouth, "as it will be counterproductive if your body does not have time to recuperate. I am again your mentor and I will have your obedience."

Shepard glared at him for a long time, and when his ice wall of a face showed no signs of thaw, she softened into a small smile. 

"You know, it's kind of... sexy, when you talk like that." she said.

Saren frowned hugely and carted her off to begin their work.

 

******

 

"Damn it."

"Try again, Shepard. Take your time."

Days had passed. Shepard was gripping the parallel bars, her arms shaking and slick with sweat. Saren was standing at the other end, observing with his arms crossed.

Shepard couldn't help thinking that merely walking wouldn't have been nearly enough to make her break into a sweat before. Probably not a helpful thought, but she couldn't let it go. It twined itself around her thoughts and trickled into her hands. She squeezed the bars harder as though to crush the thought and set her jaw, her breath coming in a hiss as she willed herself to take a step. _MOVE_ , she screamed internally, ordering her legs to do what they had always done on their own. 

A step. She adjusted her grip on the bars. Her foot dragged, nothing like the confident stride she'd once had, caught on the mat, she fell--

Saren leapt forward and caught her, just as he had done the first time she'd fallen when trying to stand again, just as he had done every time after. Shepard screamed at him in sudden rage, hitting him in the chest with both fists. This too, he bore patiently, and snagged her wrists in one hand.

"You have nowhere to be, Shepard," he said to her, with infuriating calm. "No appointments, no worlds to save. There is no rush, no one needs you to walk right now."

" _I_ need it, you bastard!" she yelled. " _I_ need myself to walk, do you get that?! I need to stop being... this! Weak!"

He weathered the force of her glare and stared at her. 

"Weak? You think yourself weak?"

"If you're going to give me a fucking pep talk-"

He tapped his forehead against hers, with a bit more force than usual.

"I don't bother with such things. What I say is truth. You are not weak. We exist today because of you. Your crew exists, your homeworld exists. You have led us all to beat the greatest threat the galaxy has ever known. And yet you say you are weak because of this? Because you were hurt, and need to recover?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I know what you're trying to do, I've done it with soldiers hundreds of times-"

Saren put his hand over her mouth with an exasperated expression. "May I finish? I need you to understand and accept this. You are not weak for being unable to walk on your first try."

"This isn't my first try!" she said, pulling his hand away. "We've been at this for days-"

He stood abruptly, letting her flop to the floor. 

"I should not have to tell you this, Shepard. You have lived most of your life in the military. You know that people are hurt. Recovery is not simple. You are not special, you are no different from any wounded creature."

"Saren, I swear to god-"

He knelt down and grasped her shoulders, pulling her up to look at him. "You are only weak if you choose to give up, and I don't believe that is in your nature. That being true, are you going to continue sniveling like a quarian, or are we going to get back to work?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't complain about not being able to walk?"

"You may." he replied, "but you are not allowed to insult yourself in my presence. You are, after all, mine, and I don't tolerate abuse of what's mine."

Shepard snorted loudly and shook her head at him. "You give the worst pep talks."

He flicked his mandibles at her in amusement. "Most of my Spectre career was solo work. Perhaps I'm simply out of practice."

"Perhaps you're an idiot. Alright, point taken. Help me up."

Their sessions together went on for quite some time. Under Chakwas and Saren's supervision, Shepard was back on her feet, but still wasn't cleared for anything more strenuous than short walks. If she tried anything more, she was quickly cowed into submission by the joined turian and human glares.

It was during one of these walks that found her outside of Saren's own hospital room, quietly sitting on the edge of his bed and slowly flexing his new artificial arm, holding a small weight. Shepard quietly knocked on the doorframe.

"I could hear you coming from miles away, Shepard. We will have to work on your stealth. Enter."

"I can never catch a break with you, can I?" she said, settling beside him on the bed.

"I don't coddle, you know that. Did you want something?" 

She watched him put down the weight, noting that it was much less than he was usually able to lift. He gave a small grunt and uncomfortably rubbed where the prosthetic joined to his body.

"... I've been really terrible, haven't I?" she said after a brief silence.

"You will have to specify when, Shepard." came the response, one mandible quirked in a smirk.

"I meant... all this time you've been helping me, getting me back into shape with me giving you a terrible attitude, and I never even thought of how you're getting along. I'm not the only one recovering."

Saren didn't answer for awhile, trying to choose his next words carefully. He wasn't easily given to displays of emotion, and when it came to talking about his feelings, well, he was frankly piss poor at it. He suspected that his relationship with Shepard was only lasting as long as it did because of her patience, and her seemingly supernatural ability to get into his head.

Still, he knew she responded well when he made the Herculean effort to show her, tell her how he felt about her, and that it was... important to her that he tried.

It was with that in mind that he gave her a sidelong look. "It's nothing, Shepard. I... you've done enough for me. It's my turn to help you."

She raised an eyebrow in response. Oh, infuriating human. She knew perfectly well what he meant, she just wanted... elaboration.

"You led the assault on the Reapers, Shepard. You set me free. I am myself again, only myself. My thoughts, my will, my dreams are my own. _I. My. Mine_. I can say these words and truly _mean_ them now, Shepard. I am Saren Arterius, and _only_ Saren Arterius, and it is because of you."

He reached out and grabbed the little weight again, holding it out for her to see.

"This little thing, Shepard. Its weight gives me some trouble, because I am not yet used to this arm. It gives me discomfort at night when I sleep and yesterday I spilled my tea when its temperature sensors were too sensitive. So what? I am free to experience all this on my own, and even these small annoyances are precious to me because they are _mine_. Why should I burden you with them, when it is you who enabled me to be here, as myself?"

Shepard was at a total loss for words as he set the weight down again and took her hand in both of his. His mandibles wavered in a tentative smile as his synthetic fingers gently rubbed over her knuckles.

"Astonishing. You grant me freedom and you are surprised at the breadth of my gratitude? You are a singularly ridiculous creature, Shepard."

She looked down at their hands, at the way the dark metal of his fingers traced abstract patterns on her skin, at how its movements weren't quite perfect. This finger moved a bit too slowly, that one jerked a bit and lacked organic movement. She cradled the artificial hand in hers and kissed the back of it, getting a surprised grunt in return.

"I still want to do something for you, Saren."

He huffed. "Stubborn creature. Fine." He paused. "I can't think of anything."

"... Do you want a handjob?"

The unplated parts of his neck blushed blue and he flailed at her irritably. "NO. ... Perhaps. N-not now!" he amended hurriedly as she moved towards him. "When we're out of this place!"

She grinned at him. "Alright, alright. Future handjob. Isn't there anything I could do for you? Right now?"

He considered her carefully, the bright color slowly fading. "... Yes. I think so." He reached out with his true hand, carefully pushing a bit of her hair from her face, and stroked the skin of her cheek. "Be... patient with me. When we are both fully recovered, I wish to show you something. However, I admit to having some difficulty in regaining my manual dexterity with this prosthetic, and I may require your... assistance." He smirked at her, infuriatingly. "I take to recovery about as graciously as you."

She turned her head to kiss his palm. "Well then. I think we've got quite a full schedule ahead of us."

He nodded, carefully cupping the curve of her jaw, being mindful of his talons. "Yes... we do. You should sleep and prepare yourself for our next session."

Shepard lingered at his side for a moment longer, wanting just a bit more of his company. She placed her hand atop his right, twining their fingers together. Saren gave no resistance, gently returning pressure as her fingers tightened briefly.

"I don't want to leave just yet. This is nice, and... I don't get to see you much outside of therapy..." Shepard faltered as his expression softened. "And it's... just nice."

"It is. Come, then." He slid his hand from hers and held out both arms to her, the artificial limb moving just a hair slower. "Stay."

They curled together atop the narrow bed, legs tangled and foreheads just barely touching. Saren stroked her hair with a soft rumble in his chest. 

"Who knew Saren Arterius was a gooey cuddlebug?" Shepard said, smiling at the sensation.

He nipped at the tip of her nose, the note of the rumble deepening. "Selectively so. Be honored, human."

She grinned and closed her eyes, pressing harder against him. "I am so very. At least until Chakwas comes and chastises you for not sending me away to my own room."

She felt a gentle pressure on her lips, then the brush of his breath. "Your own room. Preposterous. I should keep you here with me. The bed is a bit small for two, but I trust you won't mind." he said, giving a slight press of his hips to hers.

That bastard.

"Didn't you say you wanted to wait until we're out?" Shepard said, unable to stop herself drawing up her leg along his.

"Yes." he breathed, then abruptly grabbed her up in both hands, slid off of the bed and set her on the floor just outside of his room. The chill shot up the backs of her arms and she blinked at him. "Which is why we should now both get some rest. Sleep well, Shepard."

He shut the door in her face, with a quiet chuckle.

THAT BASTARD.


	3. Glop

"Hey. Shepard. There something out there more interesting than me or something?"

She blinked and swung her gaze from the window over to the man sitting near the foot of her bed. Kaidan lifted his chin and grinned at her.

"Thought not. What's on your mind? Is it the food? It'd be the food if it were me. They're feeding you real glop in here."

She snorted, looking down at the tray over her lap. "Glop" was a kind word to describe the yellow-gray vitamin mush that was supposed to be gentle on the digestive system. She pushed around a bit in the bowl with her spoon and put a bit in her mouth. It didn't taste bad, really. It was flavored to taste a little bit like mashed potatoes, it was just that the texture was so depressing. She'd give anything to bite into a cheeseburger, one with charred edges and crisp lettuce, a toasted bun-

"Just thinking about the ceremony next week. I'm not feeling it. A promotion, a medal... I don't know. I'd rather just get back to work. I'd rather be helping people."

He nodded. "Yeah, I thought that was it. What, you don't like being thanked? It's not like the medal means, y'know," and here he dropped his voice into a passible imitation of Hackett's customary growl, "'hey, stop working, you're making the rest of us look lazy!'"

"No, I know. I guess I'm thinking of it as one more thing I gotta get through before I can finally go back out there and... do something."

He laughed gently and patted her shoulder. "There's no rush, Shepard. We're doing okay out there. We're, it's amazing, everyone's cooperating and coming together. Like the old grudges never existed. Besides, you're not going to be the only Alliance officer up on stage wishing they were back at work."

That was news. She swallowed another bit of glop. "What, you too?"

"Yep. Vega too. And Joker, you should hear him crowing about it! And Donnelly, and Daniels, and... Well, the whole Normandy crew is going to be up there with us. Non-Alliance members are getting special honors, except for Kasumi. Said it cramped her style, but if one of those medals goes missing, well... We'll be able to guess who took it." 

She smiled at the thought. Yes, that felt much more appropriate. All of them standing together, the way it should be.

"...There'll be posthumous honors too. Kolyat will be there to accept for Thane, and the geth didn't really understand the request for someone to accept for Legion, but I hear they're sending a platform. Gotta stick that medal on something, right?"

Shepard nodded absently. "That's... good. Really good to hear. That's the way it should be. All of us standing together."

"Yeah. And... Ash's family is going to be there, accepting for her."

Shepard's spoon stopped midway to her mouth. She lowered it back to the bowl, her eyes on the floor. Kaidan watched her closely, saw the slight droop in her shoulders, saw them square up again when she met his gaze again. "That's good to hear too. I never did get the chance to talk to them in person... after Ash..."

"Yeah. Yeah. ... Um. Saren is supposed to be there too."

Shepard gave a huge sigh at this and thunked her head against the wall behind her. "Of course he is. Just perfect."

"Right. Uh. Listen, I know Saren worked just as hard as the rest of us, and...probably sacrificed a lot more than most, but..."

She watched him shift in his chair and look away awkwardly. She couldn't stop thinking that just for a second, the soldier looked like a little boy trying to put off giving his mother his subpar report card. She wondered if the others had put him up to this precisely because of his easy nature. Miranda, for instance, wouldn't have given her the good news first; she would've done a magnificent sweep into the room and told her flat out that Saren shouldn't come.

"But it'd be easier on everyone if he wasn't there." she finished for him.

"Yes," he sighed, relieved, "I mean... I know he was indoctrinated, and that he's important to you, and-" he stopped as she held up her hand.

"I'll talk to him about it, Kaidan. Thanks for letting me know."

He nodded, awkwardness still in his posture. "Yeah, no problem. I'm sorry it's all a little... you know."

"Yeah."

Saren chose that moment to sweep into the room, a datapad in hand and what looked like a protein shake in the other. He opened his mouth to say something, looked up and froze.

Kaidan sat bolt upright in his seat. "Saren! Uh... hi. How's it going?"

Shepard saw Saren's eyes flick at her once, a less obvious move now that his eyes no longer glowed blue, then set his drink on her bedside table, holding his hand out to Kaidan, trying to keep his expression professionally pleasant. "It goes fine. Yourself?"

Kaidan blinked into what Saren _thought_ was a professionally pleasant expression, which was infinitely pointier and stiffer than any he'd ever seen on a turian's face. It didn't help that the flared mandibles displayed all those ... _teeth,_ he thought, _they're teeth, you don't have to say fangs._ He suddenly missed Garrus. "Pretty good! Pretty good," he said, trying not to wince as Saren's hand clamped around his in a too tight grip. "Good handshake."

"I have heard that humans value a firm grip as a sign of honesty and forthrightness," Saren said, though he apparently hadn't heard when to stop shaking someone's hand. "Though I wonder what good it serves when so many of you know this."

"Hah, you should talk to EDI sometime. She's always on about that stuff. Uh, just so you know, you only have to shake someone's hand once or twice."

"I see I still have more to learn," said Saren, smoothly releasing Kaidan's hand and placing it behind his back. "If I'm interrupting anything, I can come back later."

"No, it's fine. We just finished up. See you later, Shepard?" 

She nodded to him. "Thanks for coming, Kaidan. Don't overwork yourself, okay?"

He grinned and saluted as he got up from his chair."Same to you, Commander. Take care of yourself, Saren. See you soon."

Saren watched him leave, then turned to her, puzzled. "Am I not taking care of myself?"

Shepard just shook her head at him. "Don't play dumb, you know exactly what it means. What was that with the handshake? And that face you made?"

Saren sat at her side with his drink, and Shepard had never seen anyone sip so smugly before now. "I wanted to speak with you alone, of course. However, I am aware that you prefer it if I am polite with your crew."

"Right," she said, taking a peek at the datapad. Looked like an updated routine for therapy. _Good,_ she thought, _progress._ "So... while I'm curious what you've got me doing next, there was something I wanted to talk to you about..."


	4. Make an Effort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _My apologies, this should have been tacked onto the end of the last chapter! I had some syncing issues with Dropbox that left it off!_

Saren scanned the datapad nonchalantly. "Indeed. You would prefer if I did not make an appearance at the ceremony." He glanced at her and grinned at her surprised expression. "I overheard you as I was coming in. Yes, I pretended to be surprised that you were not alone, and no, I did not intend to eavesdrop on your conversation. And," he said as she tried to reply, "I thought it would be better off if we had this conversation sooner rather than later, so I came in anyway,"

She made a face at him. "You are just too much. I was enjoying the company. You know I haven't seen them in awhile."

He flicked the datapad off, set it aside and folded his hands in his lap. "Yes... I do." 

Saren said nothing after this, but seemed to be trying to put his thoughts into words. Shepard stayed quiet, watching his mandibles flick in and out, waiting for him to speak.

"You should know, Shepard, that I do not care whether or not I attend the ceremony. A commendation from the Alliance means very little to me. This event is more for you, your crew."

She noticed how he very carefully did not include himself in that. It was true that even though she'd enlisted his help, it had never felt like Saren was truly part of the Normandy's crew. Ashley's loss had left a gap, and Saren's presence only made it all the more obvious. Some, like Samara, understood that he had not been in control of his actions, and that the true fault lay with the Reapers. The rest... well, Saren's reputation preceded him, and it didn't help that his demeanor was on the chilly side.

"This... well. My point is, they are important to you, and I assume they will be part of your life for quite some time, perhaps even for all of it." He avoided looking at her, instead focusing his attention on the floor. "And because of this, I would... like to attend."

Shepard watched his fingers tense on his knees. "You never made any attempts to integrate into the crew before. Why now?"

"It was different. You and I were not yet... involved. The mission came first and I wanted to help you, to strike a direct blow against both the Reapers and Cerberus. However, I expected that any attempt to integrate on my part would result in hostility, and you could not afford to have this on your ship. So I did not attempt it. This is also why I asked that you keep... us... a secret, until after we had beaten the Collectors."

Shepard just barely held back from snorting aloud. He said "asked", when in reality he'd been struggling with the idea of pursuing a relationship with a _human_ so much, no matter how strongly he felt about her, that just before they had had sex for the first time, he'd "asked" while facedown in a pillow with a furious blush marching up his pale neck. It had taken every ounce of her self control to not coo at the sight of a flustered Saren and take pictures.

"But now the war is over," he continued. "There is nothing ahead of us now except rebuilding. Living. If they are to continue being acquainted with you, then I should... try. I do not wish for you to have to choose in any way between them or myself."

His fingers were twining around each other. "And... it would be a good chance to personally make amends for at least one thing I did while under Sovereign's influence. Would you allow me this opportunity, Shepard?" he asked, finally looking at her.

She reached over for his hand, gently clasping it. She was impressed. He'd clearly been thinking about this for some time, and it touched her that he was being so... considerate. In some ways, he was very different from the callous turian she'd once known.

"And if it goes badly?" she asked.

"If Williams's family wishes to have nothing to do with me, then I will respect that. As for your crew, if they truly do not want me among them, then..." He shook his head, slowly. "Then I will simply stay out of the way should they ever wish to see you, or you them. And if it becomes too much trouble, or makes you uncomfortable, then I... would be fine with..."

Shepard hooked one finger around one of his mandibles and tugged ( _"OUCH, SHEPARD, WHAT ARE YOU-"_ ), forcing him to look at her. "If you were about to say something like 'I would be fine with stepping aside' or perhaps 'I won't force you to stay with me' or something similarly stupid, you can swallow that and never try saying it again."

He rubbed at his stinging mandible, grumbling. "I am trying to be considerate of your needs."

"And what if I need _you?_ " she said, poking him in the chest. "What if I don't want you to do this silly 'I won't get in your way' act and instead I'd prefer it if we worked through it together?"

Saren blinked at her, his mouth slightly open. "I... well. I would... be fine with that. Of course."

"For someone with such a high opinion of yourself, you're pretty insecure when it comes to this stuff, Saren."

"I did not become a Spectre so young by being good with _feelings_ , Shepard. If you wish to remain with me, regardless of how your crew feels about it, then remain you shall. ... That is my preference, as well."

Shepard grinned and kissed the recently offended mandible. "Good. Now tell me all about my new rehab routines."


	5. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I apologize for the lack of updates. This part was difficult to write, and I hope I was able to strike the right tone.
> 
> This chapter comes with a possible CONTENT WARNING. Saren discusses his indoctrination, and it gets heavy.

The little wheels on the trolley rattled quietly as its tiny mass effect fields pushed it along the hallway with Shepard in tow. She'd loaded it up with both levo and dextro food, hoping to catch Saren by surprise before he woke so that they could have breakfast together.

She wasn't surprised to see that he was already awake. Saren seemed to get by on less sleep than other turians she'd known, possibly as a cultivated habit from his Spectre days or just born out of paranoia. She'd have to ask, someday.

Saren was sitting up, absent-mindedly massaging his shoulder where it joined to his prosthetic arm. There was a small bottle of what was likely painkillers resting by his legs, with its safety seal unbroken.

He looked down at the trolley as it came to a soft halt at his bedside and snorted at the covered trays. "Breakfast in bed, Shepard? I didn't think of you as being so... domestic." He paused, staring at her. "Or... are you trying to get on my good side? What have you done this time?"

"You don't have a good side to be on," she said, uncovering the dextro tray. "I just thought it'd be nice to eat together, but if you'd rather not..."

He watched her pick up the levo tray. "... If it really makes you happy, then you may stay." 

She grinned and sat at the foot of his bed with her tray, facing him. "It's nice to know you care so much about my happiness."

He made a sour face at her and began tucking into his food. She made to do the same, appreciating that Chakwas allowed them some solid food at last, when she noticed Saren pushing at his shoulder again.

"Is it bothering you?" she asked him.

"It is better than it was. Only a little sore now."

She set her food down immediately and sat at his side to inspect the prosthetic. Saren snorted at the sudden attention, but allowed the touch.

"I can try massaging out the pain for you. I'm not really familiar with how to do that for a turian, so you'd have to walk me through it a little," she said, gently rubbing circles at the attachment point.

He averted his eyes. "It is not a pain you could touch, Shepard."

"Phantom pains? I never realized you had them."

He hated to see her look troubled on his account. Saren leaned close to tap his forehead to hers, just where her brow furrowed. "I did not. Not before. Sovereign wanted me to fully accept that ridiculous geth arm, and I expect it...took care of the problem, to put it simply. Now that I am totally free of Reaper control, I have begun to notice this discomfort."

He watched her fingers slip along the matte darkness of his prosthetic until they reached his hand. Three metal fingers carefully entwined with her softer five.

"Is it weird to say that I'm glad you're noticing?" she said, watching their hands squeeze tight.

"In any other circumstance, yes. Not this time." He paused. "Did I ever tell you how I lost this arm in the first place?"

Saren, _volunteering_ personal information? A first. "No. No, you never did.

He did not answer immediately. He looked down at her half full tray of food and nodded to it. "Finish your meal first. You need your nutrients and it is not a pleasant story to hear."

She pointed at his own food, an assortment of unfamiliar meats with muscle grain unlike any she'd seen before. "Only if you do the same."

He immediately stabbed at the meat with a fork, tearing it off in manageable bites.

Turian table manners were atrocious by human standards, but then again, Saren had once informed her that _she_ reminded him of a space cow, the way she chewed with her mouth open.

She stacked their now empty trays onto the cart and tapped brief commands into its console to send it trundling off back to the kitchen. Saren rolled his left shoulder, clearly trying to get comfortable.

"The truth of the matter is, I do not know how I lost it. Not exactly. It happened early in my attempts to persuade Sovereign that we could be useful to them. I remember that I could sense its...curiosity, of a sort. I remember having enough time to recognize that, but then I felt it reach out, in its mind, towards me."

He fell silent for a moment, his eyes resting on his lap. "There are religions among your people which say that to look directly upon one of your gods would induce harm or madness. It would strain the mind beyond its limits, trying to process the sight of an entity that exists in a reality so much removed from our own. Feeling the intrusion of Sovereign's will, like... like a stab wound, but slow and purposeful, I felt it push me to a knife edge where I almost... I am not making sense," he said, suddenly turning to her with a tight smirk, "am I?"

Shepard's gaze roved carefully over his face, noting the tight unnatural way his mandibles were clamped too close to his jaws. She didn't look down, but she could still tell his hand was gripping his blankets so hard that his arm was shaking (did he know?) and his shoulders were hunched as if he were trying to fend off a blow. Clearly, he did not want to continue.

She wasn't sure she wanted him to finish. Over the course of the war, she had come into contact with several devices of Reaper origin which had been bad enough. She remembered vividly her reddening, tunneling eyesight, the feeling of suddenly being small in her own body, because of something _else_ trying to get in. Yes, the Reapers were gone, but the memory was still too fresh and Saren had been making perfect sense. Trying to think of what it would've been like for him, alone, with a much greater force digging into him...

Instead of saying anything, she moved close and brushed her forehead against his. "You don't have to finish." 

Saren grunted. "Doctor Chakwas said that it might be helpful for me to speak about this with someone I trust. I cannot think of anyone I would share this with other than you."

Shepard moved back to see him more clearly. Sometimes he did that, broadsiding her with a sudden declaration of openness or affection, unsuitably delivered in his usual businesslike tones. He did it purposely, she was sure, in order to play on her affection and get his way, and while she wouldn't have minded giving it to him, she wanted to be sure this was something he really wanted to do for himself, not just because the doctor had advised it.

Saren bore her scrutiny patiently, holding onto her hand with, she noticed, his right hand.

Come to think of it... he had been doing that a lot lately. He would avoid touching her with his left, with his prosthetic. Did he think she would hate it? True, the stark wrongness of a geth arm grafted to his body had been intimidating and strange at first, but as they became closer, it just became another part of him, like any other. Why would his new arm be any different? Better, it had never been previously attached to someone else.

She leaned back in, and Saren started again. He had been right. It wasn't a pleasant story.

"I would often lose consciousness when I was with Sovereign. I would wake, sometimes days or weeks later, and each time something was...different about my body." He touched his right side absently, stroking at the wrappings that still covered it. "The first time, it took bones, ribs from me. Shortly after that, it had given me new lungs. It added to me, wiring and plates, took my eyes and gave me new ones. I never knew when it would happen or what it was going to do to me next. I never knew what it did with... the pieces it took."

Shepard was by now gripping his hand in both of hers.

"At the time, I did not mind these changes. Of course I didn't. It wouldn't let me," this last delivered in bitterest tones, "because a willing subject is easier to manage. Instead I would think of how _useful_ I was becoming, how much stronger, more efficient. Sovereign had accepted my offer and was making me into the embodiment of our agreement, I thought. My mad, mad offer."

He turned to her, but didn't look her in the eyes. "I was desperate when I made it, Shepard. I had initially gone to find Sovereign with the intent of using it as a weapon, something to... Spirits. I no longer even remember what exactly I wanted it for. To bring humanity low? It seems so petty now. Regardless. When I understood what it was, what it intended to do... Can you imagine my fear, Shepard? The thought that, by making contact with the Reapers, I was accelerating the mass extinction of all life in the galaxy? I, who had sworn to preserve galactic stability as a Spectre?"

His hands ran gently over her freshly healing scars and finally, he lifted his gaze to her, the lines of his harsh face softened with...what? Despair? Bitterness? Loneliness? How could she put only one word to his crushed composure? She thought she could see, faintly, the ghost of the younger Saren, devastated and guilty, making the terrible decision to try and bargain with the beast, to shoulder the weight of billions of lives alone.

"Shepard, I...know that, even without me, the Reapers would have come anyway. Still. I, I sometimes wondered if, I wanted to ask you if-"

He faltered, looked away again, seemed to wilt in on himself.

"Did you ever... do you ever blame me for this? For the war. For _these_?" he said, his voice barely a whisper, his fingers on her scars suddenly tightening as he bowed and pressed his forehead to them, trembling.


End file.
